


deliverance

by dinosuns



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, Dimension Travel, Falling In Love, Getting Together, M/M, Surreal, Time Travel, Trapped, Understanding, keith saves lotor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-11 03:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17439479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosuns/pseuds/dinosuns
Summary: “You’re extraordinary."Nothing could’ve prepared Keith for those words, or the rapturous look spread over Lotor’s face. It’s both a blessing and curse that Keith has found himself getting more familiar with Lotor’s expressions and what they mean.“Making the right choice shouldn’t be extraordinary,” Keith mutters.“That makes you good, yes. But that’s not what makes you extraordinary.”The universe works in mysterious and mostly unreasonable ways. Its cruelty lies in its neutrality. But even so, Keith begins to glimpse the beauty of being trapped here with Lotor.





	deliverance

**Author's Note:**

> this is my pinch hit gift for the keitor secret santa - for geekmom, i hope you enjoy this as much as i did writing!!

“I’ll be back."

He sounds sure about it, because he has to be. For himself and for his team. Black rumbles around him, clearly concerned. But the hatch opens anyway, because just as much as Red the Black Lion has come to know exactly how determined Keith is. How far he’ll go for the cause and how he never quits. They can’t leave Lotor in here, to suffer a thousand painful deaths and then some. It’s not right. It’s not the paladin way and it certainly isn’t Keith’s way.

“If I’m not, then-” there’s a pause and the silence betrays him more than he wants it too. Eyes press shut. God. This is it. He's really doing this. “Close the rift.”

The voices of the paladins mix into a blurry mess of shouts and pleas. Maybe even screams. Above his racing heart, Keith can’t focus on what they’re saying. Eyes wide open, he jumps - right into the quintessence field. Within seconds, his body buckles under the intensity. His skin burns, all of him ablaze. _Come on. Come on. Move._ It's excruciating to exist yet alone move. The energy claws through him, pressing down harder. Keith powers the jetpack, pulling out his blade to loosen the door to Lotor’s robot. With the thick presence on his shoulders, it's a hard task. But he doesn't falter, because he can't.

Hauling Lotor out, Keith growls. Eyes flash yellow and fangs protrude. He almost doesn’t recognise his own reflection in the glass of the cockpit. His skin is tinted a light purple, almost the same shade as Lotor's. Oh. The quintessence is relentless, gnawing deeper. 

The team reach out, and the beacon of hope has never looked more fearful.

It's too late.

“Go!” Keith yells, voice cracking under the pressure. He’s unsure if the team even hear the words.

It happens so fast. Voltron is illuminated in the blue of Allura’s magic just as a flash of white engulfs Keith and Lotor.

Then it's all gone, returned to stardust. 

♝

He opens his eyes to a long narrow hallway. Painted in wallpaper that is a hideous pattern, lime green and vibrant yellow. The carpet beneath Keith’s fingers burns as he sits up. Across from him is Lotor. He’s barely recognisable, breath shallow and his entire body trembling. The pure quintessence has left every fibre of Lotor’s being fractured and crumpled.

Keith manages to crawl over to his side, check his pulse. It’s weak, but there. That counts for something. They’re both unable to stand. Gazing down the hallway, Keith frowns. The quintessence field should have killed them, or maybe it already has. 

“You are... quite deranged,” Lotor manages between sharp hisses of air. His gaze is unfocused, dancing around the edges of Keith's face. “To go back for an enemy and risk your life.”

Keith watches the other, unable to form the right words. Now he’s faced with Lotor, reminded of all that’s happened, it’s difficult to know what to say. In any other situation, his blade would be raised, a defensive stance taken without hesitation. Mere moments ago they were fighting to the death, Keith had seen the monstrous things of the Altean Colony. It’s so strange to be sat side by side in an outdated hallway with endless white doors. They’d almost be pressing shoulders, if Keith wasn’t inclined to keep a wary distance. They've both fallen, in some respects. 

“You can thank me later,” he manages.

A breathy laugh escapes Lotor, dissolving into messy splutters. Then he’s drifting in and out of hazy existence, blinking slow and heavy.  

Keith looks down at his own hands, turning them over slowly. The purple has faded, his skin looks more the colour of a fading bruise now. Prodding his teeth, he feels the sharpened canines have retracted. Lotor clings onto consciousness to observe in the quiet. They sit there for what must be hours, in a silence that is not companionable but necessary.

Then, with the last of his strength, Lotor sits up. It has to hurt, considering Keith himself can barely make his limbs move. All efforts are thrown into this fleeting exchange.

“So you’ll be delivering me, then?”

Even when stripped of colour, that voice is smooth and calculating. Keith can’t decide whether to inch away or sink further into it to slice it apart. Instead, he clenches a fist, pursing his lips. He hadn’t thought beyond dragging Lotor out the quintessence field. Right now, his mission remains the same. With his body this weary, it all slips further away. What they're left in is the messy aftermath.  

“If that’s what you want to call it.”

Lotor hums. 

“I’d call it deliverance.”

The jaded amusement doesn’t reach Keith.

Because in Lotor’s eyes sits something sacred.

♝

When Keith wakes up again, the hallway is gone. From every angle, all that meets the eyes are vast mountains, ridges casting silhouettes on a horizon without a sky and without a sun. Somehow, there’s still both snow and light. And what’s more, he’s standing on the top of the summit.

Keith drags a hand through the snow, watching it fizzle into oblivion. He’s never been in snow before, but he’s pretty sure it’s not meant to do that. His hands don’t tremble, nor does he feel the cold. He’s probably supposed to, but only the ripples of the storm run through him. Tiny and inconsequential, or perhaps that is what has become of himself. The snow beneath his feet has no tracks. As if it never existed - it’s a better thought than the alternative. The idea of his own soul crumbling between his own fingertips is a little too much.

“Quite remarkable,” a voice sifts through the icy wind. “I had not expected the journey to death to be this beautiful.”

Oh. Yeah. He’s not alone here.  

Keith spins on his heel, eyes locked on the other. Something fierce rattles his bones, urges him to march forward until he’s inches away. Lotor remains unfazed, staring out at the mountains surrounding them. A gust billows against them, but the silvery hair doesn’t dance with it.

“We’re not dead,” Keith spits.

He doesn’t know what they are, but they can’t be that. It just doesn’t feel right, to call this a passing. There's still so much left to do, unfinished and pressing business. Around them, Keith can feel the universe bending and twisting. The energy is crackling under his skin, a reminder. It evades description but it’s there and that has to count for something. A hum escapes Lotor’s lips. It’s a sharp sound, born from amusement that has nothing to do with joy.

More the poignant kind, or the broken kind. Like in the hallway. 

“At least one of us ought to be though, don’t you think."

That startles Keith, knocks his determination off-balance into a chasm of confusion. It’s curious, how there’s no self-depreciation in the statement, just a delivery of words Lotor believes to be true. Keith isn’t sure if he hears remorse or not. Part of him doesn’t want to know, the other is suddenly consumed with the desire to uncover all of Lotor’s secrets and burn them.

“Perhaps the universe is angry you meddled, and it is merely correcting a mistake.”

This time, Keith does hear more beneath smooth undulating words. _I was meant to die._ And it makes him angry, a fiery rage swelling beneath his veins and threatening to burst in a volatile way. Somehow, if he swings, Keith doesn’t think his blade or fist would make contact with anything. He’s not a wandering ghost, rather their surroundings are the things haunting them. It means nothing, and everything at once.

“It wasn’t a mistake. No matter who it was back there, I would’ve saved them.”

It’s true.

Keith tilts his head a fraction, daring the fallen prince of a falling empire to challenge him. What he gets in response leaves him speechless. Eyes gleaming with something far too knowing, Lotor flits his gaze over. Keith struggles to hold it. It feels too much like surrender, being subjected to scrutiny from a person who is far less conniving and far more distressed than the universe would ever care to acknowledge. Clever eyes pin him in his place, not cruel ones.

Keith dislikes that he can now make that distinction.

The snow falls from an empty horizon. Lotor reaches out, carving through it. It’s a clean precise slice, one that would better fit a sword in battle. Much like with Keith, the snow disappears once it touches skin. Lotor pulls his hand back, examining it with open fascination. Keith lets out a shaky breath, glad the attention is no longer on him. The relief withers when Lotor turns back to him. Those narrowed eyes hone in, unrelenting. He looks at Keith the same way he looks at the snow, which is unnerving. 

“Had you known this would be your fate, would you have made the same choice?”

Not one for games, Keith sharpens his gaze. He doesn’t owe Lotor answers and he definitely doesn’t owe Lotor the unexpected solace of conversation in this perpetual solitude. There’s something else here, and it’s frustrating. Because Lotor says what he wants to, but every word is crafted.

There’s a scheming about it all. Words have become careful and calculating. It’s all meticulously designed, in a way that begins to strip sincerity down to an immodest form that is almost unrecognisable.

Keith is honest to a fault. He doesn’t mould words and fashion them into silver swords, he uses the bare bones and the force they themselves create. It prompts him to speak. 

“I could ask you the same thing.”

Maybe it’s wrong, to let the bite slip into his voice. But it also wouldn’t be right to stand here and be completely civil. Not here, wherever here is. Just because they’re detached from the universe doesn’t mean it hasn’t lived on and endured the scars. Their actions are written into the fabric of time. All of them. Somewhere out there, his team are fighting for the future of the universe.

Fist clenched, Keith holds his ground. Barely. Lotor staggers back, as if physically impaled by the response. He hadn’t expected Keith to play that card, that’s for sure. And the reaction comes as a shock to them both. Lotor most of all, considering he’s now wavering over the edge of the mountain. Keith hitches a breath, teeth grit hard to swallow the strangled noise in his throat. Instincts kick into gear without hesitation. Lotor’s balance wavers.

He falls. Keith reaches for him.

“That answer your question?”

One firm yank by the arm puts Lotor back onto the mountain. Solid ground they can't feel. Keith releases his grip immediately. It does nothing to stop the trembling of his hands. The gravity of what's unfolding is dizzying. Splayed across the snow, Lotor’s stare is vacant. He looks worn, weathered by things that evade description. A hand gingerly clasps his chest, claws dragging against the armour there. The longer Keith watches, the more he gets the macabre impression Lotor is trying to pierce a hole into his heart.

Their eyes catch, and it’s enough to evoke something scorned in Lotor. Wounded. With a brittle hiss that bares all his teeth, he snaps his head to the side. A sound rips through the silence, something too close to a choked sob. Lotor turns, shoulders shaking.

Realisation hits Keith then, that maybe he’s trying to hide. It’s uncharacteristic, a gesture born from something desperate harboured by wounded pride and shattered dreams. With no shield, and no sword, his body is the only defensive wall to use. Some would argue he doesn’t deserve to hide, but Keith finds himself giving Lotor the privacy to collect himself.

Maybe because he felt it too when he jumped out the black lion; the excruciating pain of pure quintessence as it flays and devours, the heavy presence it leaves in every corner. Cataclysmic power and the horrifying unnatural impulse to harvest it in your bones until they break and snap and crack back into place. It’s enough to drive someone to the brink of madness, should they survive. And yet here they are, as if still alive but very far from a reality that makes any tangible sense.

As he walks through the snow that doesn’t crunch beneath his feet, Lotor’s cries devolve into frenzied screams.

Across the mountains, it sounds like a swansong.

♝

Time is a fickle and selfish thing. But most of all, it’s greedy. If it ever has the chance to feed on people, stretch out their darkest days or steal years from them, it will. In the Quantum Abyss, Keith became familiar with the push and pull of this almighty force. He experienced the surprising lack of stability and how it operated in extremes up close and personal. Tossed into countless memories of the past and future, flung back out into a place that hovered so close to a stasis.

It had been a beautiful thing, despite the chaos laced amongst it all.

Wherever he and Lotor are, time is not only the thing that runs differently. This is nothing like the Quantum Abyss, which leaves it shrouded in mystery. The whole of space and their dimension is governed by new rules that are as striking as they are overwhelming. 

The mountains collapse into giant endless oceans they can walk on. Yet the further they walk, the ocean floor becomes a carpet to a large hall with grand chandeliers built from the waves splashed against the walls. The changes of the surroundings are gradual, yet instantaneous. It should be obvious, to notice when it ebbs away. But Keith can’t pinpoint the exact moment things start to shift.

No matter how hard he focuses on it all, there’s no pattern to this.

Now, they’re in a dense forest. Two gold moons hang in the sky above them, which is somewhat comforting. It’s been a while since they’ve had a sky to walk under. The trees glow with what Keith assumes is remnants of quintessence. Blossoming on the branches are red and purple flowers as large as Keith’s hand. They’re glowing too, he notices. Fingers grazing the petals, he glances over his shoulder.

A few paces behind, Lotor drinks in their surroundings. After his composure crumbled with the mountains, he has been relatively quiet. Hard lines sink into the skin beneath his eyes. Keith thought better than to bring up the incident, deciding to focus his efforts on figuring out what they’re dealing with in this place. And Lotor seems to be grateful for that, sneaking contemplative looks Keith’s way at every opportunity. There’s a curiosity there that Keith hasn’t decided whether he should indulge. He's unsure what to do with any of this. Being unsure is unpleasant. 

“How long do you think we’ve been here?” he asks, to his own surprise.

Lotor is equally stunned, blinking slow and hard. It’s the first time they’ve spoken, since the mountains. For good measure, he waits a beat before replying.

“Such things are difficult to discern, especially in our given conditions. It appears we no longer require nourishment or rest. That leads me to believe the terms of our existence have changed.”

Keith hums at that, pushing a branch out of the way ahead. Not needing to eat or sleep had definitely not escaped his attention. But it’s a truth Keith had been avoiding. The implications of it are frightening, too close to something he refuses to accept. Eyes pressed shut, he drags a sigh from his lips. Well.

“Maybe you’re right...” he parts with, tension coiling in his stomach at what that means. That gravity of the statement brings him to a standstill. “About what happened to us.”

Lotor reaches his side, lips pursed.

“But you feel it, don’t you Keith?” Gesturing around them, he continues. “The quintessence that engulfs us.”

Keith nods weakly. He’s always felt it, that inexplicable press on his soul. For as long as he can remember, it’s been there. But in this place, it’s everywhere. Raw and intense as it flickers around him. Unlike the quintessence field, it's not destructive. This quintessence serves only itself, balances only what it needs to. 

“Yeah,” he manages.

“Then dispel your doubts, for that alone is proof we are alive.”

It’s comforting. So much so that Keith finds himself sputtering a breathless laugh of all things at the revelation. Beside him, Lotor’s lips fold into the faintest smile. And when the forest peels back to reveal a vast expanse of thick fog, Keith and Lotor stride forward in wordless tandem.

♝

Keith never thought he’d get this close to a sun before. In the middle of a black expanse, it burns furious and with relentless power. Big and bold, mesmeric in its force. Large flares fan out, dancing through the dark. When Keith reaches out, there is no heat to the fire. His skin is unaffected, or maybe just unacknowledged. Vibrant colours spark around them as if charged by their presence, their own personal aurora. Of everywhere they’d been so far, this is perhaps the most inexplicable and beautiful.

“I flew into a sun once.”

Lotor parts with the words in way that infers it took a lot to give them presence. It’s difficult to process the absurd action. Lotor has proven himself to be many things, but Keith hadn’t considered him reckless. He’s swathed in ambition and cunning pragmatism. So maybe this is an extreme, forged in a situation where death had been imminent in other outcomes. Moments pass, before Lotor confirms as much.

“It was better than what awaited me had my father caught up.”

Oh.

There are gaps in Keith’s knowledge here, ones that he isn’t willing to fill with assumptions. But he recalls the Galra turning on Lotor, the confusion it had caused the team. The prince of the empire with a bounty for his head, herded by entire fleets. The mighty and malevolence of Zarkon’s forces trained on Voltron had been overwhelming. Inside a single ship, alone, Keith can’t see a realistic outcome for survival.

The searing heat, a ship pushed to the brink. Flying into the sun and hovering on the faultline between life and death, slipping into the cracks. It’s something Keith has personal experience with. The situation isn’t identical, but it’s enough. Maybe. Biting his lip, he exhales.

Behind the slow blinks, there are bursts of red and orange, fire and destruction he had surrendered himself to for the universe. For those who had no means to fight, for all the lives that would have been decimated. Self-preservation grappled with self-sacrifice and laid down its sword.

“At Naxzela, I-... I was flying my ship into the shield when you showed up.” _You saved me._

Beside him, Lotor tenses at the shaky admission.

“I see.” Lotor turns his head, expression hidden from view. “That explains several things. For one, you compromised your own mission with the blade of Marmora to keep me out of harm’s way at the Kral Zera. One could say your choices appear to be born from settling a score, so to speak...”  

It sounds too presumptuous, and far too scornful. Of all things, Lotor’s voice is strained. The words barely squeeze out and shape themselves. For reasons Keith can’t pinpoint, that bothers him. A lot.

“It’s not like that.”

Unexpected desperation seeps into his response. Lotor has to grasp this, not reduce his actions to something as selfish as clearing the slate for his own conscience. Because that’s not it. Not at all. Diving into the quintessence field had not been a personal conquest. Nor had it been some grand heroic gesture that would etch his name into the stars forever. It had stemmed from the same drive, the same honourable code Keith abides by each and every day. Do what he can to help and never stand by idle when something could be done.

No matter what.

For Lotor of all people to trivialise that is frustrating. Lotor glances over his shoulder, considering the words. It’s incentive for Keith to pledge a stronger case.

“You don’t know me. So don’t act like you do.”

“I assure you, my intention was not to offend.”

“Doesn't matter. It's fine,” Keith manages.

He doesn’t need validation from others to prove what resides in his heart. It’s simply frustrating for people who never took time to listen decide to brand him as something he’s not. Troublemaker. Difficult. Problem. Undisciplined. Outcast. A lifetime of being misunderstood and misconstrued leads to automatic defence, the impulse to bite back an instinct.  

“Is it?” The question is more rhetorical, Lotor leaving no space for answers to come. “Perhaps if I were granted the opportunity, my perceptions about you could be reformed.”

This is the real question, carefully guarded lest it be struck down. Before Keith can truly process it, trust it, Lotor once again fills the gaps.

“This is not a premeditated scheme, simply a request. It would be on your terms, of course.”

Embarrassment pricks at his cheeks. Somehow, Lotor knows. He knows more than he lets on. Ulterior motives being set aside lifts a fraction of the doubt. Keith looks back at the sun. The warmth stewing in his chest doesn’t come from there, but pretending it does is the better option.   

Maybe it wasn't a swansong.

♝

Reluctant acceptance of their circumstances keeps them from addressing the darkness that festers in the corners. It’s better that way, maybe. Keith isn’t sure he ever wants to watch Lotor crumple into oblivion again. At the grim reminder, heaviness presses into his bones until they bruise.

What happened at the mountain still hangs between them, a silent acknowledgement. They both witnessed it, they both felt it. And there are things that cast bigger shadows across them. Yet paired with each other’s company, it makes the kaleidoscope through more and more intangible worlds interesting. Sometimes, it’s even enjoyable. 

“Not a bad view up here, huh.”

“It seems climbing a vast numbers of steps has proven to be most rewarding.”

It’s not unusual anymore for hushed conversation to flow between them. The initial uncertainties that plagued every interaction has ebbed away. With every new place, Keith has discovered new things in this unlikely companionship. Now in place of uncomfortable irritation, there’s an agreeable atmosphere budding between them.

Keith isn’t sure what more can be dredged from the circumstances, but the thrumming in his veins coaxes him forwards to find out. It’s no longer an insatiable yearning to figure out a masterplan or Lotor’s next move. Though a similar drive keeps him alert and attentive.

This is something new they both tread around with care. It deserves to be nurtured. 

“You’re still cautious of me,” Lotor says, leaning against the stone of the tower.

Something playful seeps into the words, but Keith catches the dismay there. Much like the timeless tower, there are cracks in the demeanour Lotor attempts to uphold even now in the worlds between worlds. Keith has caged himself behind such walls before, hardened all his insides to stone in the hopes nobody would attempt to dismantle the unsteady foundations. He has soared, reckless and restless but unbeknown to many he has been far from fearless.

This is an observation downplayed, so by default it is one that is troubling. Important and a bigger concern than Lotor makes it seem. All Keith can offer is his honesty, sincerity in their solitude.

“Sorry,” Keith frowns. It somehow feels inadequate of all things. But finding the right words to describe how surreal their situation is evades him. “I - it’s just-... strange. You, talking to me like this.”

This time there is a horizon, and he’s glad for it. Having something to focus on whilst the unspoken things resonate is appreciated. The tower is a great viewpoint, miles and miles of desert stretching out. Bathed in the warmth of the orange sun dipping over the edge of this universe, it’s mesmerising. Parts of it remind him of earth, the days he chased down answers on a hoverbike with a desperate kind of frenzy that was only rekindled in Shiro’s second disappearance.  

The same longing for answers that make sense, that he can understand, simmer beneath his skin. Lotor is an enigma of sorts, a person of intricate design. And despite everything, curiosities give way to greater awareness that means he never asks the deafening question. _Why,_ is whispered in the wind as much as it churns through the water _._ He’s no longer in mourning, but the pang in his chest is just as sharp amongst the sand.

Maybe the desert no matter where he is will always pluck these things from his soul. See through the very fabric of his entirety and coax it into the rawest most vulnerable form. All of the fire in his bones ignites, smothering him. Yet he stands quiet, poignant and reflective. Watching and wondering in one breath.

Beside him, Lotor’s a silhouette carved out by hard lines and blinding sunlight. He stands as firm as the tower, despite the splinters Keith has witnessed in his composure. They’re built from the same determination to endure and survive, and side by side they have done so. Though their foundations are not quite the same, Lotor had immortalised himself in stone once, to a colony of people he deceived and betrayed.

Keith purses his lips, fingers clutching the balcony tighter. It’s a conflicting sensation, to be both at peace and at war with so much.

“Talking _with_ you,” Lotor amends, amusement etched into his voice. He isn’t looking in Keith’s direction, but seems all too aware of the attentive gaze. “I’d hope you’ve taken some pleasure in our discussions, Keith.”

Snorting, Keith averts his gaze. The sound withers pathetically in his mouth, clearly a deliberate and poorly maintained facade. Lotor’s lips tug into a satisfied, coy smile. It’s just a few inches shy of a smirk.

“Cut it out. It’s distracting.”

For reasons he continues to ignore, indulging Lotor with _whatever this is_ has become natural. It’s almost too easy to teeter on the edge of teasing. Catching his own lips twitching is both a betrayal and a relief.

“From what, pray tell?” Lotor probes.

Their shoulders brush, Keith’s composure falters. It’s easier to look away. This hopeful thing nestled between his ribs might just be nothing more than a mirage on the horizon, it might slip through his fingers and become lost to the sand.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m afraid I don’t, Keith.”

Keith doesn’t have to look in his direction to know what kind of game they were playing. It’s in every word. Lotor is not as suave and subtle as he thinks he is. The very thought draws a breathless raspy laugh from Keith’s lips.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“And you’re extraordinary,” Lotor marvels, sounding genuinely in awe.

Nothing could’ve prepared Keith for those words, or the rapturous look spread over Lotor’s face. It’s both a blessing and curse that Keith has found himself getting more familiar with Lotor’s expressions and what they mean. The universe works in mysterious and mostly unreasonable ways. Its cruelty is in its neutrality. There is seldom a care for who is affected or what is broken by its existence.

But even so, Keith begins to glimpse the beauty of being trapped here with Lotor.

“Making the right choice shouldn’t be extraordinary,” Keith mutters.

“That makes you good, yes. But that’s not what makes you extraordinary.”

Keith bit down on his lip, tongue burning with words that form questions he shouldn’t ask. _What does, then?_

“We’re on borrowed time, Keith. We ought not waste it.”

Something in that evokes all his sharpness. Keith narrows his eyes, pins Lotor with a glare. He doesn’t know what that means, why it’s drenched in a sadness that has no place here.  Lotor’s smirk wilts. All of him withdraws into the demons that have been haunting him since the mountain. He’s no longer a silhouette, he’s a shadow. When he speaks, his voice is the softest Keith has heard it.

“This choice of yours, it will have repercussions.”

Eyes pointedly fixed on the horizon, Keith clicks his tongue in annoyance. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s made a decision that others might not agree with.

“Why do you care so much?”

Part of Keith wants Lotor to proclaim he doesn't but the other part is clinging desperately onto fragments of bruised hope. He’s unsure when this started, the yearning to have confirmation of that kind of thing.

“I’m more curious as to why you don't,” Lotor muses. His voice ducks down to a low murmur. “People will know what you’ve done.”

Lotor speaks as someone who believes they’re not worth saving. Keith isn’t sure how to even address that without overstepping or pushing too hard on a bridge they’ve barely begun building. The best he can do is assert his conviction, demonstrate his confidence in the decision and inadvertently the person he is slowly discovering. Blazing certainty, or nothing.

“Let them talk. I know who I am.”

Lotor blinks in surprise and Keith can feel his eyes on him. But above that, there's exhilaration thrumming in his veins. It's been so long since Keith said that and believed it. Lotor has been the unexpected catalyst for rekindling so many dwindling fires within.

“I'm sure they will do more than simply talk.”

The return back is not going to be easy. Keith is fully aware of that much. The coalition, and the entire universe, will be demanding answers. He highly doubts Lotor will trusted or accepted as an ally. There will be resistance and reticence, and Keith cannot begrudge that. There are things that need explanation, that may not be forgiven. Leaving this place will throw them into the jaws of the universe.

“We’ll figure it out. First we need to get out of this place.”

 _Borrowed time,_ is what Lotor called it. Keith wonders if it would be selfish to enjoy these stolen moments. Because part of him aches down to his bones and the other is already cleaved right open at the thought of what awaits them on the other side. The respite that Lotor brings is nice.

He knows one thing for certain:

Things won’t be simple, they might not be this simple again.

♝

The wallpaper comes into view, and Keith knows.

There are less doors than before, only two, but it’s the same place. It has to mean something. Keith sucks in a sharp breath, gesturing to the doors surrounding them. They’re back where they started. All those worlds ago, falling into the quintessence field. Here is where their journey began.

Lotor follows the rapid swing of his hands. The way his skin pales and eyes darken is enough indication he has some vague impressions of their time here. Fingers tracing over a golden handle, Keith meets those considering eyes.

“Do you think one of these doors...-?”

“Yes.”

Knuckles white, Keith’s fist clenches around the handle. He pulls down slowly, eyes trained ahead. Their fate quite literally burns on his fingertips, itching to be written. By this stage, this many shifts in realities, it’s been established they have no authority in this narrative. They only possess the ability to move between them. But even that is vague and inconsistent in its motions. Space-time is a vehicle they have no choice but to board, no matter where it leads them.

A moment passes, the door remains closed.

Yet beside him, Lotor is open. It’s both admirable and poignant. He stands inches away, eyes trailing over Keith’s face. Lotor has the demeanor of somebody shrouded in mist that never unfurls, cradled between serrated teeth in the snapping jaws of a biting solitude that clamps down hard and without reserve. Even through those bones, his disposition bleeds out. And perhaps that is because of the harrowing fact that this the bone is hollow, brittle in a way that has the capacity to break quietly over and over without fuss or ceremony.

Much like Keith.

Because Keith holds himself like somebody who never expects eyes to fall on him for longer than a passing moment to cast judgement and unfair assumptions, like somebody who can slip into obscurity and escape notice entirely. When carved from things brighter than stars, more resilient than the hardest of weathering stones, his resolve is more fierce and unyielding than the collective intensity of a thousand burning suns.

And here he is - wavering.

“Keith, would you care to do the honours?” Lotor prompts, a bemused smile climbing up the curve in the corner of his mouth.

Keith appreciates that, the distraction. It pushes him forward, into action.  

“Well.” The handle clicks as the door opens. “Here goes nothing.”

♝

It’s the wrong door, and it doesn’t lead them home.

The water pools around their feet, moving with the tide. Forces are in motion, but it doesn’t lure them in. Across the horizon, there’s no sign of the beach ending. Beneath the pale moonlight, they walk along the shore. Small flicks become kicks with intent to splash the other.

For the first time in a while, their fate is an afterthought.

♝

“Well. This - this is… familiar,” Keith drawls more to himself.

In all honesty, this is Keith’s least favourite backdrop yet. No matter how hard he squints or train his eyes ahead, the picture remains the same. Thick white clusters of gas that never cease the lessen. Visibility is poor, near impossible to navigate. It’s only natural to find similarities here. Arms folded, he huffs. Great. Who knows how long they’ll be stuck in this place for.

“You were the one at Thayserix,” Lotor’s voice weaves amidst the fog of their latest canvas. It’s breathless in the revelation.

An absent hum escapes Keith’s pursed lips as he walks forward. Or at least he thinks so. There’s no effective way of measuring direction here. The ground is smoother than it should be, giving nothing away. They’ve had several talks about their own journeys, with several omissions and avoidance, but their first meeting is a subject they’ve never acknowledged.

“Yeah.”

“It is pleasing to see you have since cultivated your skills.”

Coming to a halt, Keith glares into the fog. Despite the time that has passed, it still stings to recall that time. Least of all the early blunders of leadership. Hearing it from Lotor of all people is not at all appreciated. Yet he speaks it as if he’s bestowing the greatest praise he has to offer. Keith has quite a few things to say about that if that’s true.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whilst you held astounding abilities in many areas, you lacked credible direction.”

Oh. He’s definitely smirking. That merely spurs Keith on in his petty endeavours.

“I met your every mark,” he quips back.

It’s as audacious as it is facetious. He’s not a good pilot, he’s a brilliant one. And now he’s more attuned to quintessence, to sensing it, he isn’t about to downplay how that gave them an unexpected advantage in a bad situation. Lotor might not admit it, but Keith likes to think he at least kept the other on his toes. They hadn’t won that day, but neither had Lotor. Even ground. 

“Is that so?” Lotor sounds amused, which is going to be very dangerous for his ego and pride if he continues.

“Yeah.” And just because of the poorly stifled laugh cascading around the fog, Keith decides to take it up a notch. It’s not boastful if it’s the truth. “I could do it again. Here and now.”

“That’s absurd. This fog has become most elusive. For all you know, I could be-”

That settles it. Keith reaches out then without hesitation, hand gripping what feels like Lotor’s wrist. He squeezes as a gasp resounds through the fog. The reaction confirms it, that he’s won this trivial game. Grinning, he tugs Lotor closer who seems all too willing to indulge him and this moment.

“Gotcha.”

At this distance, the fog disperses a fraction. It’s enough to see wide yellow eyes struck with awe. Keith is unsure where to look, fingers curling around the wrist a little closer to the pulse point.

“Most impressive...” Lotor admits, shifting in Keith’s grasp. His hand suspiciously lifts, palm brushing Keith’s before pulling back. It takes every ounce of restraint not to jolt at the touch, even more to not sink back into it. “But I’m afraid I need more evidence to truly corroborate this.”

The words throw them into a ridiculous and competitive game of tag. Of all things, Keith never expected a duel with Lotor to be this irresponsible and without real consequence. The lack of surroundings to latch onto makes running difficult. Then there’s the lack of weight on the ground. Gravity is both present and not, a paradoxical effect that is only amplified when moving fast. Still, they weave and wobble their way through it. If Keith loses his footing on occasion, Lotor doesn’t seem to notice.

And if Keith knows for certain that Lotor loses by two points but still announces himself the winner, nobody has to know that Keith lets him have the win. Because Lotor declares victory in a voice that’s as bright as starlight, so far detached from empires and diplomacy or the well-orchestrated movements of a strategist at war with himself and the universe. It’s a sound laced in something close to hope, close to peaceful.

It compels Keith to lunge through the fog, poking Lotor in the side only to scramble to dodge the imminent counterattacks. Their voices ring out, peals of laughter creeping out between them.

Laughter is powerful, in a way Keith forgot it could ever be.

♝

“My, this is rather extravagant.”

Keith doesn’t level him with a flat look. With wide eyes, he stares openly at the landscape. Fields of flowers unfold around them, swaying in a breeze that isn’t felt. The deep purple and red shades cast patterns over the horizon.

“It’s pretty nice.”

“Some might even call it enchanting.”

Lips twitching, Keith keeps his eyes ahead. It’s difficult to suppress the swell in his chest. 

“Would you?”

“That all depends on whose company I’m in.”

Their hands brush. It's not an accident. 

“Right.”

Fingers slowly entangle.

♝

“Do you think we’ll ever get out of here?” Keith asks, absently throwing a stray twig onto the fire.

His eyes are locked on the flames, as if half-expecting them to move of their own accord and twist into mesmeric shapes. It wouldn’t be the strangest thing to happen out here in this place wedged into the void of the universe.

“Undoubtedly. Whilst this is one of the longer episodes, we have yet to see an anomaly in the pattern that would suggest this is to be-”

“No.” Throwing another stick into the fire, enough for the flames to shudder at the intrusion, Keith narrows his eyes. He's agitated. Lotor is talking in tongues, deliberately avoiding the point. It’s not reassuring.

“No, that wasn’t -...” A frustrated sigh. Keith rakes a hand through his hair, eyes slowly trailing up to hold Lotor’s full attention. “I wasn’t talking about this exact place. I - it’s-”

“Oh?” Lotor hums, eyes drifting shut as the heat of the flames dance over his skin.

And that’s just infuriating. He knows what Keith is asking, of course he does. But Keith will talk himself round in restless circles unless the direction is affirmed. Maybe it’s stubborn, but Lotor plays worse games. He’s playing one right now.

“Enlighten me.”  

Keith goes quiet in a way that exudes vacancy, and so do his eyes. It enough to snap Lotor out of his misplaced reverie. Maybe he’s realised Keith is being serious. There is nothing hypothetical about it, no more evasion. The fire’s warmth is no longer comforting, it’s destructive.

Keith laughs, ducking his head and it’s nothing short of resigned, in a way that bruises bone before grinding it down to dust. He’s considered the possibility before, that Lotor has stopped trying to find the answers. Content to dwell here, with Keith in this humble ritual they have created. He’s not sure what to make of that part, but the acceptance of their fate is unsettling. And now Lotor just sits there, watching. Helpless to the display.

It’s an awful sinking feeling, that this is further proof of it.

“Unbelievable.”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, Keith.”

“Yeah. That makes two of us.”

The words are laced with bitterness. Standing up, Keith purses his lips. The words he’s desperately trying to choke into oblivion are torn from him in the process.  

“You might’ve given up, but I won’t quit. Not until this is over.”

“One cannot go back from whence they came. Such a thing is impossible.”

The mountains are out of sight, but it’s as if they’re back there. Keith can’t allow that to happen. He just can’t. Not when they've come so far. 

“ _This_ is impossible! If we can just get back to the doors, then-”

“-Then nothing, Keith.”

The finality of the words stuns Keith into silence. Lotor’s voice is distant, detached. There’s a cold twist, like the piercing of a dagger. It hurts, more than Keith can articulate. To be right about this, the defeat that has curled its way under Lotor’s skin and made a home there. Throat burning, Keith attempts something neutral. But the rasp betrays him, as does the hot moisture in his eyes.

“You don’t really believe that.”  

Lotor keeps his gaze on the fire.

“We are being governed by chances.”

That’s the catalyst. Fist clenched, Keith leans down and chases Lotor’s eyes. They meet, and Keith gives him nowhere to run. A hand braces the log Lotor sits on as he inches closer. Maybe he’s being unfair, but it’s necessary. At this distance, he can’t hide the raw honesty etched into his expression. Neither can Lotor. It’s a compromise he’s willing to make. If he has to take the reins, lay down the splintered pieces of this hopeful budding thing, then so be it. He will.

Keith’s voice dips low, full of intent.

“If that’s true, then you’re not taking any of them.”

Realisation seems to hit, then. Lotor shifts forwards, confidence restored. He moves with precision, one hand cupping Keith’s face whilst the other slides around his waist. Stumbling into the touch, Keith hitches a breath. It’s magnetising, dares him to respond. The tension coiling in his stomach is entirely welcomed as he plants a hand on Lotor’s shoulder.

The space between them lessens. Together they take the chance, sealed by a searing kiss.

♝

When the hallway reappears, the final door is pried open as if waiting for them. Hands entwined together, Keith squeezes. He doesn’t comment on how Lotor trembles, his own pulse racing. Uncertainty lies on the other side, so much that it’s almost overwhelming. For a brief moment, Keith gets it - Lotor’s reservations about returning.

It would be easy, to stay here. Ebb into obscurity or linger in the remnants of this quintessence. What they have here is a retreat from all the troubles of their universe. But it’s also an escape, and Keith is not the kind to cower in the face of his trials. Lotor doesn't want to be that person either. 

“Ready?"

“With you by my side, I find myself prepared to face all eventualities.”

It’s a good answer. The door opens, and they fall into the world encased behind it.

Amidst the stars, the black lion greets them.


End file.
